


darling, our scars make us who we are

by asatronomical



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Autistic Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Body Positivity, Cabin Fic, Fluff, Gender Dysphoria, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, References to Depression, Scars, Swimming, Trans Male Character, also!, discussion of scars! in case the title didn't make it obvious, i guess lol, it is not explicitly stated but he sure is and its important to me, it's jon he's trans, self-indulgent gay shit, technically!, this is truly just some short and sweet gay shit, truly this is just fluff central you guys, why is that not a tag!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24713149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asatronomical/pseuds/asatronomical
Summary: jon and martin go on a little trip to the lake and realize that they have something in common. (read notes for more!)
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 10
Kudos: 193





	darling, our scars make us who we are

**Author's Note:**

> hello folks it's ur local pal here, giving you more info about this fic, which i would like you to PLEASE READ before you read the fic! hello thank you. so this fic discusses scars and self-harm pretty outright, because i, the author, have a history of self-harm and wrote this fic to feel better and project a bit. i am in no way suggesting that self-harm is romantic or lovely!!!! simply that a scarred body is still deserving of love. if you're struggling, reach out to someone you trust or a hotline. love you stay safe!
> 
> also, that being said, i'd also like to say this fic is purely just some self-indulgent fluff because i was sad. it is not my best work. but it is cute, i think, and it cheered me up to write and i hope it cheers you up to read. it's not any kind of masterpiece, i am just a little man using tma to make the world feel less stinky. if you're still here thank you, drop some kudos/a comment if you feel like it, and stick around, ya little jerk. world's better with you in it.
> 
> (also the title's from rainbow by kesha)

The weather really was lovely up there, and while it didn’t compare to a seaside, there was a lake by the safehouse that the pair went to one day in some kind of attempt to unwind as the sun beat down, keeping everything just a little warmer than warm enough. The lake would be freezing, but when they arrived, Daisy’s ratty old towel in hand, Martin shaded by a sunhat he found in a closet, the lake was as full-to-bursting with waders and swimmers as a small Scottish countryside lake could be. Jon, never a big proponent of getting wet if he didn’t have to, was not deterred, and set the towel out in a somewhat shaded area, sitting down with a book because, well, what else was he supposed to do? But Martin, wrapped in a sweater despite the heat, stared longingly at the water.   
Jon was never the best at keeping his questions in check- god knows that plagued him long before he served the damned entity of questions- but supernatural compulsion and his own habits formed an unstoppable pair as he asked “Why aren’t you swimming?” As the air crackled around them with a dryness the lake should have matched, he added on, “Damn. You don’t…” but Martin was already answering.  
“I don’t like going shirtless,” was out of his mouth before he could even blink, and he stared into the distance for a moment before looking back. “No, it’s… it’s fine. It’s stupid, really. Who needs to swim anyway? The water must be disgusting anyway,” he said, moving closer to Jon to look over his shoulder. “What are you reading?” Jon closed the book, looking pointedly at Martin, who was trying desperately not to fidget with his shirt cuffs.  
“Martin,” he sighed, but then cut himself off, turning the book toward Martin. The two of them read for a while, and Jon had nearly lost himself entirely in the novel before Martin spoke again, quickly, not looking him in the eye.  
“Used to cut myself.” Jon’s neck prickled with remorse and recognition, and Martin sensed it- “I know, it’s awful and I shouldn’t have said it, I just-”  
“Martin, it’s fine- I mean. It’s not, but… if you want to talk about it, go ahead.” He fell silent and put a hand on Martin’s shoulder. The movement was awkward, but once it landed, it settled like it belonged there.  
“Things were rough when I was a kid, and I didn’t handle it well. Couldn’t take my anger out on anyone else, I guess, and I just… took it out on me. Never got therapy or anything, which I almost definitely should have, but I managed. Got bad again a while ago with the whole…” Jon swore he saw Martin’s eyes cloud up for a moment, and he knew exactly what he meant. “Anyway. I used to love swimming, really. Still do, I think, but it’s been ages since I got the chance. Plus, can’t think of anyone who’d want to see me like this.” He gestured at his body and deflated a little before leaning into Jon.  
Jon paused for a moment, nodding as his next words processed in his mind. “Martin, did you know people used to think I was a woman?” Martin looked at him, vaguely puzzled. “They did.” He was calculated. “Maybe it was my hair or how much I hated football, I don’t know, but everyone used to call me a woman. Even, ah… even doctors.” Martin’s eyes filled with recognition. “And I suppose, what I’m saying, really, is that, ah… I am no stranger to… misdirected anger. Neither am I a stranger to having a body that I’d like to cover up.”  
And for a moment, the two men looked at each other, feeling their skin touch through the layers they had put up. And it was enough, for a minute or two, to lean into each other, knowing the reality of what lie beneath those layers.  
Martin was always the braver one, really, Jon thought, and so although he was caught off-guard, he was not surprised when Martin briskly said “Well, come on then,” and removed his shirt like he was ripping off a plaster. His arms and shoulders were laced with scars ranging from muted blobs to still-shiny pink skin, probably newer than Martin would really like to admit, but they were there. His skin was pale and birthmarks dotted his back and chest, tracing his curves and rolls. Martin looked at Jon, face filled with a mixture of joy and shock, and opened his lips to say- something. Jon cut him off by unbuttoning his own shirt, which took much longer than Martin’s sweatshirt (in an attempt to alleviate their nerves, Martin hummed as if Jon were doing a striptease, to which he got a shirt in the face). By the time they finished laughing, the two of them were chests to the world, scarred and reconstructed, scrawny and fat, broken and made whole again, and while they were still afraid, it was enough to be afraid together.  
They stood, and Jon hesitantly reached his hands up around Martin’s neck, still clammy from the breeze that blew between them. Martin laughed and leaned down, holding the smaller man and pulling him into a kiss, tender and unhurried, and they let their foreheads remain together when they came up for air, laughing a little, before Martin scooped Jon up in his arms and ran toward the water as his shrieking Archivist swore like a sailor and they finally touched down in the freezing water.


End file.
